


Love, and Other Complications

by Yeah_JSmith



Series: Ruff Stuff [5]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: AND SWEET, AU, Drunken Flirting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friendship is Love, Gen, Nick is a smart cookie, Serious Discussions, Speciesism, allusions to self-harm, allusions to sexual harassment, and general creepiness, and so is Judy, but nothing on screen, but with real feelings, confessions of past trauma, fluffy friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_JSmith/pseuds/Yeah_JSmith
Summary: Judy brings Nick to a college party. Things don’t go according to plan. That’s okay, though; their friendship will survive and grow stronger.





	1. Party Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick meets some interesting mammals, but plans get derailed by liquid courage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect a special flow from this story. It's just a few scenes from the past to fill out the Ruff Stuff universe and I'm playing with first-person again, which I'm not good at.
> 
> This is probably questionably characterized. When I wrote my first Ruff Stuff story I had this as the background information, and although it makes sense in context, you might not agree with a specific behavior of Judy’s. It's long over by the time "Good and Good Enough" takes place and that's not an accident...but still.
> 
> For reference if you’d rather not bother with the other 4 entries: Judy won a scholarship to ZU instead of going to whatever regional college she attended in canon. She met Nick, who is only 4 years older instead of 8, in her Sophomore year (when this takes place) and they became friends through a series of amusing events. Judy’s blowout with Gideon happened when she was 17, since she never did the stage play at Carrot Days, which means it’s only been a couple of years since it happened and it was much more traumatic...but also gave her extra drive to not only become a police officer, but to prove to herself that she’s strong and fearless.
> 
> [Ruff Stuff, the Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFsMzmYsLKfO4D5y1PUHlsn_epYk4ROpn)

****It’s not like I went to college, but I've been to my fair share of college parties, albeit as arm candy rather than...whatever we’re going to call this. Breakup material. Maybe this is just a better crowd, but I don't feel out of place here. Judy’s doing the rounds, introducing me to Penny Woolworth and Kat Castleberry, but I can hear two students discussing the sustainability of nuclear power and I'm pretty sure those rabbit does over in the corner are arguing Nabarkov versus Dosdogevsky, and I actually kind of want to go over and troll them with trivia and timelines. They're not even in the same category, which I know from growing up with a library card and no access to a television. I'm a Nabarkov fan myself, though I'd probably lie and say my favorite Russian is the one made with Kahlua, but I love to make mammals squirm.

What can I say, you gotta get your kicks somehow.

Judy vibrates with nervous energy, the fingers on her left paw threaded through one of my beltloops and her right paw wrapped tightly around the stem of an oversized wine glass. I can't drink wine because it’s not delicious, but that’s all right. I don't like to drink around mammals I don't know.

“This is Nick,” she tells another rabbit, the smile on her face big and fake. “Nick, honey, this is Kevin, the one from my study group.”

Right, Kevin, the little twerp who thinks harassing her will get her to fall madly in love with him. I tighten my arm around her shoulders, making her fold inward and look smaller than she is. It also serves to make me look protective to the point of douchebaggery, which isn't all that attractive, but that’s the point. “Yes, I remember you mentioned someone giving you some trouble. This is him?”

“I wouldn't say _trouble,”_ she titters, and I wonder what she’s _really_ going to school for. I didn't think she had any sort of coquettish tendencies. “Just a bit of a misunderstanding.”

Kevin looks between us, lingering on my paw (or more probably my claws) and the possessive way she’s leading me by my pants. I know it’s the most practical way to guide me without holding paws like kits in love, but it makes for an interesting picture. I'm holding her down and she’s leading me around by my dick.

I can actually see the moment this idiot decides to become an adult male in the worst way possible. He puffs himself up and says quietly, “You’re so brave, Jude. Most girls wouldn't degrade themselves by dating someone so...sharp.”

Really, Kevin? _Negging?_ I almost feel sorry for the guy. If he’s reduced to reading straight from a skeevy pickup artist’s playbook, he clearly has no self-respect. Then again, maybe he’s just stupid from all the hormones. I have a look-don’t-touch policy, so I'm never looking to get lucky when I flirt. I can smell his desperation, and that isn't even rhetorical. Now that I’m fairly well-versed in the meanings of bunny hormone shifts, I can literally smell how much he wants her.

She’s breathtaking in the right light, sure, but this is excessive. Might want to put word out about this guy, because he’s probably latched onto other sweet females before. I wonder how many other Judys there have been, and for that matter, how many other Nicks. The thought makes me uncomfortable. It doesn't matter that Kevin is small and physically nonthreatening. It doesn't matter that I'm not dating Judy. It doesn't even matter that there aren't a lot of rabbits in Zootopia. I hate guys like Kevin because they lack accountability. If you're a ball of sleaze, fine, so am I, but for cripes’ sake, own it. I hate the ones who would rather blame a female for being pretty and nice or oblivious than acknowledge their own cowardice. He found someone he thought would be too nice to turn him down, harassed her, made her feel _unsafe,_ is now trying to make her feel bad about herself, and for what? So she’ll relax her standards? Does he really think trash-talking her boyfriend will somehow make him look attractive in comparison?

The truth is, they call me a predator because of my teeth and my digestive system, but I'm not the one who wants to hunt and catch other mammals. Maybe my next project should be creating a generic brand of Fox-Away. Perv-Away. I could sell it in cute little canisters that look like perfume. _Damn,_ that could be lucrative. And maybe I could get Judy to try it on this little shit...

My paw clenches involuntarily. Judy’s breath catches, but she doesn't say anything. At a low almost-growl, I say, “I may not have rabbit ears, but I can hear what you're saying. C’mon, Darlin, you promised to show me around.”

As we leave Kevin behind, she looks up at me in confusion. “That was a perfect opportunity to pick a fight.”

“Yeah,” I tell her, “but then this whole charade would have been useless. It would have made him think he had a chance to comfort you after your big, mean boyfriend got jealous and dumped you for talking to another guy. You have to be the one to initiate it, or I’ll look like a jerk who doesn't deserve you.”

Which is, I’ll admit, the truth. I'm already planning my future with Judy in it, because when you’re a fox straddling the line between lawful and criminal, it’s good to have a cop on your side. I _am_ a jerk who doesn't deserve her, but that's entirely beside the point tonight.

“How do you know,” she asks.

“I spend my days trawling through the muck. I work with slimebags every day. Kevin isn’t original, Carrots, I see him every day, only wearing a different face.”

“Well that’s…” She frowns and cocks her head to the side. Why is she so freaking _adorable?_ I’d never be able to pull that off. I don’t have the face for it. “I don’t know if that’s a relief or not. It’s nice to know it’s not unique to me, but it’s unfortunate that Kevin’s not the only Kevin out there.”

And then she throws back a large gulp of her wine. I’m no fan of alcohol in general, but even I know that’s not how you drink wine. It’s how you self-medicate. She’s never struck me as the type, but then, this whole sticky tangle with Kevin came about because she acted in a way she usually doesn’t. I’ll freely admit I don’t understand it; how can I? I’ve never been in that situation and it’s unlikely that I ever would be. All I can really do is stand by her until the right moment...and then hope it doesn’t take too long for us to “reconcile” as friends.

* * *

I'm supposed to be breaking up with her, but she got too nervous and now she’s too drunk to do it properly. I didn't sign up to be the good guy here, but I don't have the heart to leave her friends thinking she’s just a speciesist brat. Kevin aside, these are good kits, and I know bunnies are social creatures. So I sigh and deposit her in front of Penny with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but I have to work in the morning. Could you make sure she gets home safely?”

“Aww, such a gentlemammal,” says Penny. “I guess you _are_ a good boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Judy says in a stage whisper. To me, she says, “Okay, let’s break up now!”

“Yeah, okay. Consider us officially over, Carrots,” I tell her. I hear an amused snort and realize it doesn't matter what we say at this point. I look like...well, like a good boyfriend indulging his drunk girlfriend.

“You two are _so sweet,”_ Penny gushes. I roll my eyes, but it’s not like I can do much about public perception. That’s something I learned early on. “Judy, I can't believe you kept him to yourself this long!”

“Okay, but we broke up.” Judy seems even more prone to missing the point when she’s drunk. “So I can't kiss him or anything.”

“Right. Mammals don't kiss when they're not dating,” I intone, trying not to laugh. What a weird leap of logic.

Judy turns and gives me a sloppy once-over, nods, and says, “But you are pretty handsome, so I guess it’s okay.”

And she grabs my tie, yanks me completely off-balance, and gives me my first kiss ever.

I am not impressed. _This_ is what they write poetry about? A meshing of damp lips and the clack of teeth? Now I see why marriages based on physical attraction fail so often.

I push her away gently. “You’re drunk, Fluff. How’s about we don't let the beer goggles talk you into doing something we’ll both regret.”

“I don’t drink _beer,”_ she says, sounding vaguely offended.

“Of course not. It’s too pedestrian for the great Detective Hopps. What was I thinking?”

She squints at me. It shouldn’t be charming, but somehow, it is. Ye gods, I’ve got some serious soul-searching to do after this is all over. I need to get out more. Maybe find myself a real girlfriend. Or boyfriend, either would work, just not this bunny who keeps managing to throw me off balance. She opens her sweet little mouth and I want to try and kiss her again, which... _what._ No.

I can barely hear her through the buzzing in my ears when she says, “I want you to take me home, Monsieur Wilde.”

“You’re d-drunk,” I say again, and it sounds weak even to me. I can’t remember the last time I stuttered. It was never bad enough for other mammals to comment on it, but words are my craft; I’m not in the habit of allowing verbal tics to ruin the flow. Haven’t been since I started working the streets. I bite down on my tongue briefly and try again. “Tell you what, Officer Fluff, you go home with Penny here, and we’ll meet up tomorrow after your shift. I’ll bring you a wrap from the Henhouse and you can complain at length about your evil physics professor.”

What’s next, Wilde? Gonna offer to lick her heels or carry her around? Cripes, I need psychiatric help.

Judy’s sheep friend gives me an unsettling look, one part suspicious and two parts satisfied. It’s the same kind of look Mom used to give me when I made honor roll despite rarely attending class. If I’m honest, I’m a little intimidated, but I used to work with _polar bears,_ so I’m used to ignoring that. Finally, Penny smiles a little. “I’ll get her home, Nick, don’t worry. Hey, Hannah! Get Jude to my car, would you? I’ll be there in a second.”

“Sure thing,” says a smallish wolf, presumably Hannah. Judy grins up at her and lets out a small _whoop_ when the wolf scoops her up effortlessly. “C’mon, Hopps, you menace. Penny’s gonna drive you home.”

“Bye, Nick! Bye, everyone! I love you!”

My heart pounds, but it’s stupid. She’s talking to the room at large, not to me. It’s pretty clear that Judy’s an affectionate drunk, and I’m not an affectionate mammal. Nobody in my position can afford to be. Penny gives me another look, a hard one, and says, “I’m going to walk you out. Let’s go.”

I don’t want to cross her, and not just because she reminds me of my mother. If I want Judy to remain in my life (in a purely professional capacity), I can’t afford to be on the outs with her best friend. Friends are basically the family you choose; anyone else, be it business associates, lovers, or actual blood relatives, comes second. I follow, foolishly hoping she doesn’t ask me any pointed questions.

No such luck, though. “When I heard Jude was dating a fox, I thought it was cu – sweet, that she was finally getting out more. I never in my wildest dreams thought she would be dating _Nick Wilde.”_

I frown at her tone. “You know me? I don’t remember meeting you, and I’m pretty good with faces.”

“I know your reputation. Judy and I are on fairly good terms with Francesca Largo, though I think you’d know her as Fru-Fru.”

Mr. Big’s daughter. _Shit._ Of course Judy would be on good terms with the _mob,_ because she has the unique ability to attract dangerous mammals. Honestly, that’ll be her biggest strength when she’s a police officer. _If._ If she gets through the academy. All she’ll have to do is stand there and wait for wrongdoers to say hello. “I don’t really associate with Mr. Big, but yeah, I know who she is.”

“I must say, it was pretty ballsy of you to do what you did. Fru giggles about it quite a bit. She thinks you’re hilarious. Stupid, but hilarious.” Penny bares her teeth. They’re large, flat, and probably have quite a bit of crushing power. She could probably kill me with a bite to my throat. Actually, she could probably kill me with a hard swat to my head. How did I not notice how _big_ she is until just now? “That said, Jude clearly thinks the world of you.”

“Well,” I say awkwardly, and then I can’t think of anything else to say.

“And you obviously respect her. Four guys out of ten would have taken her up on the offer to go home with her.”

“That can’t be a real statistic,” I tell her, shaking my head. Four out of ten guys would date rape her? Four out of a hundred, _maybe,_ but four out of ten isn’t the Zootopia I know and love. My city is objectively a shithole, but not in that respect.

“You’d be surprised,” she replies, giving me a sideways glance before fixing her eyes on the parking lot. I try not to grin at the sight of Judy hopping around an increasingly annoyed Hannah. Apparently, Officer Fluff has that effect on more mammals than just me. “And I’m surprised that you’re surprised. I helped conduct a recent study about assault among college students. Apparently, as long as you don’t call it rape, plenty of mammals – male and female – think it’s fine to assume a lack of no means yes.”

Her expression demands a response, so I oblige. “She’s drunk. I’m not. It takes zero brain power to make that decision. And, I mean, sure, she’s smart, and surprisingly sneaky, and funny, and she’ll go on to do amazing things, but that doesn’t justify…”

I’m just babbling at this point, intimidated into saying the first thing that comes to mind, so I bite down on my tongue again. I sound like an idiot.

Penny smirks. “I didn’t hear you say she’s pretty.”

“Come on, like that’s even a question.” I roll my eyes and pretend I’m not flustered. This sheep is Judy’s friend, not an interrogator. “If this is a _what are your intentions toward my daughter_ talk, can we skip to the part where you threaten me with a fox taser and I promise you I won’t do anything to hurt her until the second act where I do something phenomenally stupid?”

“You know,” says Penny, sidestepping my flippant question, “I was starting to believe her when she said you were fake. I’m glad for her, though. You make her happy. She smiled more tonight than she usually does in a week these days, and most of those smiles were directed at you.”

“Oh.”

There’s really nothing left to say at this point. _Oh_ is the only thing that Nick Wilde, crafter of wit, hustler, fake boyfriend extraordinaire, can come up with. It’s weird to feel so impotent during a conversation. This is usually my perfect arena.

“I won’t insult you by pretending I trust you, an ex-mobster, but it’s not my call. It’s Judy’s. I don’t care what your intentions are. I just care what happens to my best friend. So this isn’t a threat, or a warning. Just a request from someone who gives a damn. If you’re planning to break her heart, do it now, because she’s already been hurt before and it took her a long time to get over it.”

“Been hurt by a fox, you mean.”

“That too, if those scars she thinks nobody notices are any indication,” Penny acknowledges, “but no. I don’t think you’re the type to get physically violent, and after seeing her practice that MMA stuff, I’m sure she could wipe the floor with you anyway. I mean by the scads of mammals who look at her and see a stay-at-home mother with sixteen litters and dirt on her knees. I mean by her own family, who keep trying to get her to give up. This scholarship was the best thing that could have ever happened to her, and I don’t want some lowlife con artist to make things hard for her. So please don’t be that mammal. Or if you are that mammal, break it off with her now before she falls in love with you.”

“I don’t know what kind of mammal I am,” I confess, looking up at the sky. It’s a new moon. I wonder if the night sky looks different in Bunnyburrow, and that tells me all I need to know. “I’m not cut out to be a mobster, though, and I don’t want Judy to remember me as some lowlife who hurt her. She thinks I’m better than that, and I believe in her. She makes me want to _be_ better.”

It sounds foolish when I say it aloud, even though it’s true. I’ve only known her for a little while, but it’s been long enough to figure out how fiercely she cares about what’s hers. Her family, her friends, her grades, her dreams...her Nick, whatever I am to her.

Whatever friendship we have now, it can’t last. It’s better to distance myself; Judy doesn’t want to be any old cop, she wants to be _special,_ and that means two years of grueling training to get her into military-approved shape. She’s going to go to the police academy after she graduates, and I’m going to do whatever I have to do to survive, and in a few years we might be completely different mammals. What if she scrubs out and goes back to Bunnyburrow? What if she doesn’t, but I’m not good enough for her when she comes back? The smart thing to do, the Nick Wilde thing to do, would be to run far away from this situation.

But I wasn’t lying when I told Penny I don’t know what kind of mammal I am anymore. I may be street sleaze, and I may be a lying bag of dicks when the occasion calls for it, but fuck me sideways, I really do believe in Judy Hopps.


	2. Checking Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy goes to work the day after the party. Slow days are the _worst_ if you want to avoid a mental spiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judy's point of view this time. It alternates each chapter so that there aren't any jarring breaks in the middle of a chapter.

The harsh light of day never fails to make me regret things I’ve said in the quiet cover of night. Last night especially. I know I drank too much, and I know I’m a bit of an amorous drunk, but did I really kiss Nick last night? Cheese and crackers, I’m an idiot. It wasn’t even a good kiss. It was the kind of sloppy, toothy kiss that makes you look like you’re fifteen and clumsy. He’s probably never going to talk to me again. I don’t know what’s worse: never seeing him again, or seeing him after embarrassing myself so thoroughly. I can’t even bring myself to talk to Penny; I have about twenty missed calls from her and it’s only five.

I want to crawl into a hole and die.

It’s not even really about the kiss, if I’m honest. It’s not weird for a college student to kiss her boyfriend, and maybe he’s not my boyfriend, but for all intents and purposes, he  _ was  _ mine last night. It’s just that in a time of panicked desperation I hired him to publicly break up with me, and instead of picking a fight like I was supposed to, I tried out some liquid courage and came onto him instead. I don’t want to lead him on. I don’t want –

“Hi, there! Did you find everything you were looking for?”

“Yeah,” the deer says with disinterest, looking at her phone. I methodically ring up her collection of button-up blouses and the single pair of chalk-stripe pants that seem to be all the rage lately.

“That’ll be $56.89,” I say cheerily, even though I don’t feel at all cheerful. Usually I like work. I like observing mammals and trying to guess what kinds of lives they lead. It’s good practice for when I become a cop. Today I just feel like I have lead in my gut. “Unless you’d like anything else?”

She – Sheila Prongs – gives me her card with nary a glance. It’s behavior I’m used to, but today, even the most mundane things sting a little. It’s hard not to take it personally when I already feel so bad. I smile a little harder and run her card, trying not to hope her card gets declined. Just because I’m embarrassed doesn’t mean everyone else has to be. I don’t want to be the kind of mammal who takes pleasure in others’ discomfort. That’s why, every so often, I run over the scars Gideon left on me with a blunted razor blade: to remind myself what kind of mammal I want to be. I want to be good, strong, and thoughtful, not reactionary and cruel.

“Thank you, and have a nice day,” I tell Sheila. She murmurs a  _ goodbye  _ and nods. It’s better than nothing.

(I don’t want to be better than nothing. I want to be good. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like I am.)

“Hey, Judy,” says Athena Redford, my coworker. I don’t know her very well, but she’s friendly enough, and I’ve spent  _ way  _ too much time staring at her long, fluffy tail to not realize she’s prettier than I could ever hope to be. “I’m here to relieve you.”

“My hero,” I simper, because Nick’s teasing has started to rub off on me. Great. “I, uh, I’ll go clock out.”

“You do that,” she says, amused. “There’s a red fox outside, by the way. Says he’s waiting for you, but he looks super sketchy to me. Want me to tell him to shove off?”

“No,” I say faintly. Nick’s here? Waiting for me? “He’s my friend.”

“Weird choice in friends,” she tells me with a snort.

Sometimes I forget that in the real world, foxes aren’t well-liked. When it’s just Nick and me, it doesn’t feel like he’s a fox and I’m a bunny, it feels like we’re just two mammals, albeit with different traits. Last night at the party, almost everyone was nice to him. But college campuses tend to be comprised mainly of open-minded mammals trying to be better than their parents, just like Penny said months ago. My circle of friends is progressivist as a whole. Most of them are academics involved in various social justice causes, too. But then things like  _ this  _ happen and it’s like a bucket of cold water. Athena isn’t a bad mammal. She’s not a criminal. She isn’t inclined to hate speech. She’s got a queer ally badge on her purse, for cripes’ sake. But even as a predator herself, a red panda, she looks down on foxes just because they...what?

“Nick’s a great guy,” I counter, but I’m already walking away, questioning myself.

Yeah, okay, Nick’s shady as heck, and Gideon scarred me for life. But I could go on and on about Nick’s better qualities, and it’s not as though I was innocent in the incident that finally pushed Gideon over the edge. Even Finnick, as crotchety as he is, tends to do the right thing when called upon to do so, as evidenced by that incident where he put himself in danger to save that kit in the stroller. Foxes are just like any other species, so I don’t really understand why everybody thinks they’re bad.

I probably never would have questioned it if I hadn’t won that scholarship to ZU. I would have gone to college somewhere in the Tri-Burrows area, probably Hedgerow University. It’s a rural state school, rabbit-sized and rabbit-dominated. I could have been just as clueless as Athena. Would I have been able to make friends with Nick if I hadn’t gotten this chance to grow and learn in the heart of Zootopia? I doubt it. The dark thought makes my stomach drop. When all is said and done, I don’t think I deserve Nick.

But everything negative passes through me and dissipates when I see him, giving me that dorky smile and holding up a bag from the Henhouse. He wasn’t just trying to smooth everything over, then. He really meant it when he said he wanted to meet up. I can’t always tell when mammals are being insincere, because I tend to just naturally trust them, and I don’t know how to fix that, but it gets me into trouble more often than you’d expect in the city where anyone can do anything.

“Hey,” I say to him, returning his smile. I can’t help it. He just makes me happy. I’m pretty sure he’s my best friend, even though I’ve only known him for a little while.

Huh. Nick’s my best friend. That's a new thought. But not entirely unwanted.


	3. Fisher's Creek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick investigates some oddities and takes Judy home.

The first thing I notice is her slightly-bedraggled fur, but the most pressing thing is the faint tang of blood. It makes my mouth water and my stomach turn, because yeah, I'm a predator, but I'm also an evolved mammal, and I'm pretty sure if I tried to eat raw meat it’d make me hurl. My instincts are telling me two different things. I'm just glad we evolved for speech and higher reasoning, because otherwise I'd probably just growl at her, not knowing if she’s a threat or not.

“Are you hurt?”

She frowns. “What?”

“I smell blood,” I clarify, looking her over. She doesn't _look_ injured, except...there’s a little ooze on her cheek I would have missed had I not been looking for it. My eyes narrow. “What is this, Carrots?”

“Nothing, just a...mistake,” she says, which doesn't sound at all truthful. “Thanks for the food. Have you eaten?”

Either whoever gave her those scars in the first place came back for her, or we have to have a very different conversation. “Who scratched you today?”

“Nobody, Nick, come _on,_ let’s just do something-”

I don't budge, despite her tugging on my arm. “So you scratched _yourself?”_

“No,” she says defiantly, “I didn't scratch myself, but it’s not really any of your business, is it?”

I put my paw up to push the fur away from her scratch, so I can see it better, but she shrinks back like I'm gonna hurt her or something. Cripes, that stings. If I'd just met her, I'd probably think she was scared of me, but I've known her long enough to know that whatever it is she’s shrinking from, it’s not me. Doesn't make it sting less, but it does make me less likely to stomp off in a huff. I’ve always been a bit of a drama queen, but I’m working on that.

“Carrots – Judy – look, I didn't mean to scare you,” I say, pulling her into a hug. She doesn't resist, which is good. “I'm worried about my friend. That's a thing I'm allowed to do, right? Be upset if you’re getting hurt?”

“I don't deserve to be your friend,” she says, but the way she’s nuzzling into my chest proves that she doesn't want to _stop_ being friends.

“You don't really get to decide that, though. I decide who deserves to be my friend, and you decide who deserves to be your friend, and we both get to avoid that stupid argument over who doesn't deserve whom.”

This might be the most adult conversation I've ever had. I can cross _grow up already_ off the to-do list.

She laughs a little. “How is it that you can hardly ever remember my name, but you can remember when to use _who_ and when to use _whom?”_

“Judy has two syllables,” I say, glad she's able to joke, “which is very difficult for an unedumacated guy like me.”

“Let’s go to the park,” she says abruptly, and I know which one she’s talking about. Not Central, but the one near Oak Street.

“I have a better idea,” I tell her. It’s time I showed her the best spot in Zootopia proper. “Let’s go somewhere new.”

And I know she still trusts me, because when I step back and offer my paw, she takes it without hesitation.

* * *

Fisher’s Creek is a misnomer. Once upon a time it had water in it, and probably fish, too, but now all that’s left is cracked mud and a couple of footbridges like this one. I like to sleep here, but it’s also a great place to sunbathe when the weather’s nice. Finnick sometimes says I act more like our savage ancestors than a civilized fox, but at least I don't live in a van. I hate enclosed spaces. There's nowhere to run or hide.

“Welcome to Feather Bridge,” I say, gesturing to the structure. She doesn't look impressed, so I add, “Also known as Chez Wilde.”

“I suspected you were homeless,” she says frankly. “You smell like nature. It’s not something I get off anyone else.”

I don't know why that makes me so bashful, because I’m too good for that. “I mean, I have a place to stay when the rain gets too bad, but I prefer to sleep outside.”

“Me too.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Really?”

“The big city is different from Bunnyburrow, so I've always been too afraid to camp out here,” she confesses, holding onto my paw tightly, “but back in my hometown...if you go out a couple of miles, the stars are so bright, and you can smell honeysuckle and fruit, and when you have over 300 siblings it’s nice to have some alone time. Everybody used to make fun of me, you know, because I was gonna be a police officer and I liked camping and roughhousing and I preferred does to bucks and I never liked dresses or anything, but when I made the trip to my clearing, I got to be me. No criticism, no laughing, no pressure to conform. Sometimes in the summer I spent weeks out there, studying during the day and failing to find constellations at night. I never really fit in with Bunnyburrow folks, but I do miss that. It’s a kind of freedom I had to sacrifice for following my dreams, and I don't regret it, but I do miss it.”

We stand here together, soaking in the sun. She looks longingly at the trees and I look longingly at her. I was, I think, a little worried that she’d judge me for being homeless – though I prefer to think of it as being free – but she always seems to catch me off-guard. I shouldn't be surprised. I know that Bunnyburrow is rural as hell and that blue dress she was wearing when I met her is the only one she owns. I guess she just acts so urban that I forgot she isn't really a city rabbit.

“I'm sorry,” she says eventually, looking up at me. “I've had a lot on my mind and I kind of freaked out earlier, but you didn't deserve to be on the receiving end. And I'm sorry for kissing you while I was drunk. Drunk kisses are the worst and I probably slobbered all over you. It was probably the worst kiss you've ever had.”

“It wasn't the worst,” I reply, shrugging. I don't think I'm ready to tell her it’s the only kiss I've ever had. “I'm sorry too. For pushing. If you want me to know something, you’ll tell me.”

“Oh, Nick.” She tugs on the tip of her left ear, which is adorable, but there’s something in her voice that unsettles me. Judy Hopps is almost never vulnerable by choice. Just like me, she can't afford to be. “You shouldn't apologize for being my friend. I just don't want you to think I'm foolish.”

“After everything I've seen? I'd have to be brain damaged to think that.”

She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She chews on air and tries again. Looks away. Breathes. I know this routine. It’s why the Scouts got away with doing what they did. I've never told anybody about it, because I never _could._ The Scoutmaster tried to get me to explain why I wasn't showing up for meetings, but I just ran away and didn't come home for three days.

What I _wish_ someone had done is forced me to say it in a place where I could maybe feel safe. I wish someone had hugged little nine-year-old me and told me that everything would be okay, because even if it was a lie, my whole life went down the tubes after that incident. I was smart and curious and brave as a kit, but I never lived up to my potential, and nobody ever bothered to ask why because I'm a fox. Nobody _cared,_ except Mom, but she was already being threatened by Jimmy Brown’s predecessor. I never linger on what I could have become, had I been able to get over what happened, but Judy shouldn't have to go through what I did.

I hug her again and tell her, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, you're gonna be okay.”

And yeah, it’s probably a lie, but that's not important. What's important is whether or not she believes it.


	4. Chez Wilde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy admits something to Nick. He's the second mammal she's ever told. Her trust is rewarded in more than one way.

I don't want to relax into Nick like this. Everything in me is telling me to run away, even my own voice that won't come. My story is a stupid one, but it’s trapped behind my teeth, and I don't know what would be worse: telling Nick and being pitied, telling Nick and disgusting him, or not telling Nick and making him think I don't trust him. I just sort of hoped this would never come up. But here it is, and with his arms around me like this, I can talk to his chest. It will be like talking to a pillow. I don't have to look at him. I can pretend he’s not looking at me. I can pretend I don’t have that itch in my shoulders, shame at being so dumb and anxiety about having his eyes on me.

“I have to warn you that this is stupid,” I begin. He doesn't answer, which is sort of good. I don't think I could continue if he spoke, but his silence means I _can._ “Think of the stupidest thing you can imagine and double that, and that's how stupid this is.”

I have to think of it like that. I know it's not healthy to minimize, but I should be over this by now, and it’s stupid internal weakness that is holding me back. It’s all stupid.

“I told you I got teased a lot, but there was one guy who was...meaner than the rest of them. He didn't like me at all. And he had a right to hate me! We were always at odds, and I always called him out when he bullied my classmates, and he was...his family was terrible to each other and him, but I didn't think that ought to excuse anything. Anyway, when we were seventeen, our school had a job faire. I was talking to a police officer and he teased me, right in front of everybody. Said a bunny cop was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard of. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before, but I turned around and there was the cop, laughing along with everybody else. I was just an idiot playing make-believe to them. I wasn't really speaking to him, I was really speaking to the cop, but I called him out. I said he was small-minded, and then I got nasty and said it wasn't his fault he was too stupid to have vision or even ambition, but it wasn't like he’d amount to much anyway. I don't know why I said it. I was cruel and vicious and judgmental and I loved every second of it. I liked seeing him hurt, and I liked that it was me who hurt him. This jerk who’d tormented me since kithood deserved it, I thought. But he didn't. Nobody deserves to be ridiculed in public, even if they do it to others. That's not justice. It’s just mean.”

I take a few breaths. Nick tightens his grip, but still doesn't say anything, so I continue. “After cheer practice, I was getting ready to head home. Nobody else was around, but that wasn't unusual. I was in the back by these hedges that led to a shortcut off the property. He cornered me there. He didn't look angry at first, so I thought maybe it would be our big moment of reconciliation, like in the movies where they make nice and everybody’s happy and they become friends or whatever. So I said _can we just stop? I don't want to fight anymore._ And I kept saying stuff, nice things like he was funny when he wasn't being mean, or I knew he was better at history than me, but I think he thought I was...you know, coming onto him. _That_ made him angry. He shoved me and I kicked him. I don't remember what he said when he clawed my face, but I remember it burning. I fell down and…”

My body shivers and I feel like I want to step out of my own skin. I can see it happening as I say it aloud. “He shoved my head into the dirt. He held me down like that, and I wasn't strong enough to push him off, I wasn't strong enough to do anything but look up at him and hope he was only planning on saying something mean. And he leaned over and said – this part I remember, I don't think I’ll ever be able to forget – _who do you think you are, crybaby? I might not be a fancy little nerd like you, with your cute pink shirt and big books, but predators like me used to kill and eat prey like you. Remember this: you'll never be anything but a stupid carrot-farming dumb bunny._ I'm positive he was only being mean, and he probably never even thought of the things that were running through my head. But I was _helpless._ You grow up hearing about how you have to keep your head down, walk around with your paw in your purse so you can use your keys as claws if you have to, never wear anything revealing, never say anything that would sound aggressive...it was all flashing in my brain, totally freaking me out. I'm not telling a different story because he was a bully, not...yeah. The pain went away, but that moment stayed with me, the moment when I had no idea what he was going to do but no matter what it was I didn't have the power to stop him. I still see it sometimes, like not in my memory but up in front of my eyes. It’s always _still happening_ but that's what's stupid. It was years ago, not this morning. I should be over it. I _am_ over it, except when I'm not, and maybe I am just a dumb bunny after all.”

I feel ridiculous. I'm crying all over Nick’s awful shirt and I'm pretty sure now he has bunny snot on his tie. I'm ugly when I cry. And he’s going to think I'm such a loser, a weakling who can't get the heck over a stupid tiff in high school, and of all the mammals that could coax the words out of me why did it have to be the one I admire the most?

“You're not dumb,” he says, and then he breathes me in. I feel small again, but this time I don't feel like I'm in danger. Because this is Nick, who is my best friend. Nick who made sure I got home safe last night even though I made him look stupid. Nick who isn't pushing me away even though I started out scared of him for something he didn't, and would never, do. “It’s not dumb to be afraid. It’s actually really smart. Fear keeps us alive.”

“I just...there are terrible things that happen to mammals and I'm bothered by _that._ I was cruel and he was cruel back, so I don't really...deserve to be-”

“Don't.” His voice is sharper than I ever imagined I'd hear from him. “I don't know who told you that you're not allowed to admit to being traumatized just because someone else has it worse, but that's garbage, Judy. Feeling helpless _sucks._ It stays with you long after the fact and you can't really control when it comes back, or why.”

It sounds like he has intimate knowledge of this, and I want to ask him. I want to be there for him, like he’s here for me. But I know him. He’ll tell me when it’s safe. If I'm not safe yet...that's something I need to work on.

“I just don't know where that ends and I begin,” I confess, which is the root of the problem, isn't it? “Did I choose to be an officer because of that or would I have chosen it anyway? How much of my personality was altered by it? Maybe I'd be prepping for the LSAT instead of the ZPA entrance exam if I hadn't opened my dumb little mouth that day. Am I really following a dream, or am I doing this because I have to prove him wrong?”

“Does it matter?”

His voice is even and quiet again, but it still takes me off guard. “What?”

“I like you. This you, not...whatever imaginary you that might have been. Penny likes this you. Even Finnick likes you, and he doesn't like anybody. Motivations aside, this _is_ who you are. You're funny, and smart, and determined, and you're never boring. The only issue I see, really, is that this whole thing happened four years ago and you're still bleeding today. You're either getting into very specific fights or self-harming, but neither are good for you.”

I lean back to look him in the eye. I don't _want_ to, but it’s important that he understand I'm being honest. “It's not like that. I mean it probably looks like that, but it’s not a...self-harm thing. Sometimes I just need a reminder of the kind of mammal I want to be. I don't want to be nasty and hurtful. I don't want to be somebody who deserves to get clawed across the face. So every once in a while, if I've done something selfish or mean, I remind myself that it’s not who I've chosen to be.”

“I'm pretty sure that's _textbook_ self-harm, but I wouldn't know for sure, because I'm allergic to textbooks,” he tells me, and I laugh. I don't know why, but he just always makes me feel good.

“I don't want to break up,” I blurt, and then I want to kick myself.

He grins. His heartbeat changes a little, but I always feel bad about noticing that stuff, so I ignore the hitch in his breathing, too. “You do know we’re not actually dating, right?”

“Stop, you know that's not what I mean.” I fiddle with the end of his tie, looking at that because it’s easier than looking at his face. “I just...after we fake break up I’ll have to stop seeing you. It’s weird for exes to stay friends after a bad breakup. You're my friend, Nick, and I don't want to lose you because I’m a stubborn weirdo who used to think grades are more important than mammals. I’m pursuing a dream, but I want the mammals I love – my _friends –_ to share that life with me.”

He sighs loudly and pets my head. It would be condescending, but he seems reluctant to pull his paw away from my ears, so it’s more affectionate than anything. “Tell you what, Carrots. We can still pretend. That's not a hardship for either of us. I will allow your stubborn self to bask in my glorious presence if you can promise me one thing.”

I snort. “To not step on your giant ego? Not sure that's going to work.”

“No, although I won't complain if you shower me with compliments and gifts. What I want is for you to stop cutting yourself.”

“I don't _cut myself,_ it’s not that dramatic.”

“All right, stop decorating your cheek with blood, then. It’s ooky. And the smell of blood is nauseating.”

“I can do that,” I say, because I only do it to remind myself to be better than I was, but Nick brings out the best in me anyway. I think. I can do anything; it shouldn't be hard to stop, right? I have self-control.

“And spend the night tonight.”

I smile up at him. This is more familiar territory. “Why, Mr. Wilde, so forward. Shouldn't you offer me coffee first?”

“Sorry, honey bunny, but Chez Wilde is nothing but dirt path and open skies. It’s a new moon tonight, so the only thing we’ll see is the stars.”

“And light pollution,” I tease.

“And light pollution,” he echoes. “So what do you say?”

“I say it’s good to be back in the great outdoors.”

He smiles so wide I'm surprised his cheeks don't split. As for me, I don't feel trapped for the first time in a long time. Whether that’s going to last, I don’t know, but I hope it will, and hope is the best feeling in the world.

Whatever the case, I’m going to spend the night in Nick’s arms, or at least side by side with him, and it’s going to be _amazing._

**Author's Note:**

> Each story of mine has dealt with specific issues. This one deals with the realities of harassment and how even stuff that's stupid isn't actually harmless.


End file.
